


lovers’ lanes

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Flirting, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “Denise,” he says, holding his arm out for her when he pulls open the passenger’s side door. It’s a bright, beautiful morning, the air crisp enough that her breath forms a little cloud with every exhalation, and Coop is wearing flannel, which is both charming and far more attractive than it has any right to be. As she takes her place at his side, his grip slips down to her wrist so he can offer a quick squeeze. “Welcome to heaven on Earth.”





	lovers’ lanes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [libraralien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/libraralien/gifts).



Twin Peaks is a lot of things, Denise can tell that about it right away. It might be the fog, the way it lingers even late into the day, the sun’s rays cutting through it only with slow and methodical deliberateness. Mist-pale, it wraps around the tree trunks of the foothills that surround and protect and isolate the town. She likes it, but even more than that, she likes that Coop loves it.

And he so obviously loves it.

So when he invites her on an outing, as casual and open as ever, she can’t say no. And she should definitely regret that inability even though she’s here to do a job and she’ll be leaving here far too soon for her liking—now that she’s found Coop again anyway—and he’s still the man he always was except better. More settled. Accepting of her. And interested, if his lingering looks have been any indication of it.

Twin Peaks is a mystery, but only part of it belongs to her.

“Denise,” he says, holding his arm out for her when he pulls open the passenger’s side door. It’s a bright, beautiful morning, the air crisp enough that her breath forms a little cloud with every exhalation, and Coop is wearing flannel, which is both charming and far more attractive than it has any right to be. As she takes her place at his side, his grip slips down to her wrist so he can offer a quick squeeze. “Welcome to heaven on Earth.”

“You mean I haven’t been there already just by being near you again?” she asks, dialing up the flirtation as far as she dares, edging it with a deliberate drama that will enable him to brush it off should he so desire. She knows so little of his past relationships, only that they’ve damaged him in ways she’s afraid to prod at, pushing not being her style. She peers up at the trail ahead and squints and hopes her shoes are up to the task. They’re functional, though not nearly as pleasant to look at as her preferred style, but even that extends only so far when you didn’t pack with hiking in mind. “This place must be something else.”

Coop smiles and ducks his head. His cheeks pinken and not just because the dawning sunlight is only just warming this stretch of the world. Despite everything, he’s still so fresh-faced and open. There aren’t a lot of men like him in the world. “And here I thought I was going to charm you.”

“I always was an overachiever.”

His attention turns toward the trail, too, before he turns away to retrieve a pack from the trunk. “Coffee,” he says, “and a few doughnuts.” Stepping close to her again, he leans in. It’s only the romantic in her, but she swears she can smell the pine tar of this place on his skin, astringent and green and a little dark underneath it all. “I happen to like overachievers.”

Her eyes must twinkle with the amusement and affection she feels for him in that moment and she’s pretty sure she sees it reflected in his, too. “I know you do, Coop. That’s why I like you so much.”

Shrugging the pack onto his shoulder, he points toward a stand of barely visible trees, their deep green tops feathering out every which way like they, too, are only just rising from a good night’s rest. From down here, it’s not that impressive, but she bets her opinion will soon change on that score. 

Honesty is a thing that has had to grow itself inside of her over the past few years. And with Cooper, it’s easier than it’s ever been to be truthful. It used to be she feared questions, refused to court answers. Now, she embraces both in her work and her personal life. So. It isn’t _so_ very hard to ask: “Is this a date, Dale Cooper?”

“If you can’t tell that,” he answers, equanimous and good-natured in equal doses, “I’m clearly not doing it right.” He holds out one smooth, cool palm for her to take—which she does—and tugs her toward the trail. His stride is long, but hers is longer and it becomes difficult not to take the lead even though she doesn’t really know where they’re going.

“Oh, Coop,” she says, laughing lightly. “You’re doing it right.”

The wind kicks up a bit, whipping Denise’s hair across her face. But Cooper, steadfast, stalwart Cooper, remains untouched by it. When he looks at her, she thinks he could withstand a hurricane.

They walk in silence for a time, the sound of birdsong the only thing to cut through the quiet rustling of leaves. It’s nothing like what Denise is used to. Cities are her natural habitat, the concrete easier to navigate than spongy, moss-kissed dirt. The crack of gunfire is more familiar than the crack of the branches beneath her feet. And yet… there is a comfort here that is so much like coming home that it takes her breath away.

They make it to the rise Cooper had pointed to earlier and at first Denise isn’t sure what she’s looking at. Trees. A gulf. A swerving cut in the forested hills across the way that must be train tracks. She looks down then to the left and sees the falls, the Great Northern perched in miniature above it. It’s only at this point that she truly hears the rush of water as it spills and spills and spills itself over the edge and into the river below.

“It’s not Philadelphia, I suppose…” Cooper says, dropping the pack onto the ground and rummaging around in it. “…but it sure is something, isn’t it?”

“Do you really miss Philadelphia?” They’ve never really talked about this. Their friendship had never been like that before. More than work buddies and less than confidants, that’s how they’d been. And even so, Denise can see the truth of it. This is where he belongs.

“No, I guess you’re right. I don’t.” He unfurls a red-and-black plaid blanket and crouches as he spreads it for them. Small by anyone’s standards, Denise can’t help but be amused. Such an elegant way to ensure they’d have to sit close to one another. “You always did know me better than you let on. I have missed working with you.”

 _Smooth, Coop. Real smooth_.

After brushing out the wrinkles in the blanket, Coop frees a thermos from the pack and a tupperware container that apparently holds the doughnut in question and holds them up for Denise to take. Instead, Denise crouches, too, and presses her lips to Cooper’s. His mouth slackens for a moment and she can feel him juggling the stuff in his hands before finally letting them fall to the ground so he can fan his fingers across her cheeks and jaw.

Would they have done this before, Denise asks herself. Maybe is the only answer available to her. She’d always been a little attracted to him, after all. Who hadn’t been, back in the day?

Who isn’t now?

Instead of pondering that further, she releases the thought to the winds, choosing instead to focus solely on the softness of Coop’s lips, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the sweetness of this moment, the best sort of unexpected treat there is. Here they are in the middle of the woods, making out like teens. Even Denise’s stomach is fluttering at Coop’s touch, a nervous sensation she hasn’t felt since she herself was a teen. The only thing they need to complete the picture is a car, an abandoned stretch of dirt to park on, and the moon at midnight.

Denise would bet a large chunk of her salary on the idea that there’s a lovers’ lane somewhere in Twin Peaks.

Maybe she’ll ask Coop to take her there. Even odds are he’ll blush at the question and better than even odds are Denise’ll be charmed either way.

When they part, both of them breathing deeply, Denise can see a brightness in Coop’s gaze that she’s never seen before. His fingers lift to brush across his bottom lip as a wide, slow smile spreads across his face. “Wow,” he says with boyish good humor and genuine wonder.

“Wow,” Denise agrees, drier than desert air, but far, far more pleased than that. And Coop knows it, too, grinning all the wider at her teasing.

He always did get her sense of humor.

“Better not let the coffee get cold,” he says, patting the blanket in invitation. “We’ve still got a lot of Twin Peaks left to investigate.”

Investigate. Denise smiles and puts her hands out to steady herself as she takes her seat. She likes the sound of that. As long as Coop is there, she’d like the sound of anything. “I can’t wait to see it all.”

Coop takes her hand in his, squeezes it tight between warm palm and fingers.

“Denise,” he says, “I can’t wait to show it to you.”


End file.
